Strength
by Sparks
Summary: She went down the corridor to her room and looked in; it hadn’t changed in all the months she’d been away. She left her room and went to Jackie’s room. The door was shut. She could remember only a handful of times it had been shut. The smell of vomit was


Title: Strength

Rating: K, maybe? Adult theme.

Notes: This grew, or was born, from various thoughts and feelings and wonderings that I've had. It lacks coherency, but purposefully so. It's obviously AU. Just a little what-if.

It was originally going to be happier, meant to cheer Jilly up. As it turned out, I doubt it'll put a smile on her face! So dedicated to my Mum.

* * *

Rose paused, the key in the lock, and looked over her shoulder.

"You coming in?" she asked. "I won't be long, I just want to pick up a few things."

The Doctor rolled his eyes. "I ask you, how much stuff d'you need?" he grumbled. "S'your mum in?"

Rose grinned. "Nah, she'll be working. C'mon. Just a couple of minutes." She turned the key and stepped into the flat. "Mum?" she called, just in case she'd been wrong. "Mum, you here?"

The TV was on, and Rose turned it off with a frown. "She's always doing that," she murmured. "Not when she goes out, though…"

The Doctor stood in the kitchen, turning around. "Can you smell something?" he demanded. "Something's…"

"S'vodka," Rose realised. "Someone's been on a bender and hasn't cleared up." She looked around her properly now. Traces of vomit on the sofa made her recoil slightly. "Mum's never let it stay this messy," she said slowly. "I wonder what's going on…"

She went down the corridor to her room and looked in; it hadn't changed in all the months she'd been away. The socks she'd decided not to take were still sitting on her duvet. It was still pink and square and hers.

She left her room and went to Jackie's room. The door was shut. She could remember only a handful of times it had been shut. The smell of vomit was stronger here.

"Mum, what've you been up to?" Rose murmured.

In the kitchen, something caught the Doctor's eye. "Rose," he called out, picking up the empty bottle. "Rose!" with more urgency. "Rose, don't –"

She opened the door and screamed.

"Rose!" He darted down the hallway and pulled her away from Jackie's room. The stench was awful now the door was open, and the sight was even worse.

Jackie Tyler lay sprawled on her bed. She was on her back, one arm across her stomach and the other thrown out, resting in a pool of dried vomit. Her eyes were closed and her mouth was open and coated with yellow, bilious grime.

She had clearly been dead for a few days.

Rose screamed and screamed until she didn't have breath, and then she gasped and choked and cried, clinging to the Doctor as he shut the door again, blocking out the sight. He held her tight, trying to comfort her, then carefully inched along the hall – Rose still clamped onto him like a limpet – to reach the phone. He called the police and an ambulance, then hugged Rose again.

The paramedics arrived before the police. The Doctor leaned Rose against a wall – he wasn't sure she could stand – and opened the bedroom door again.

He couldn't look at Jackie's body.

The police arrived.

"When did you discover the body?" the inspector asked him.

"Uh…five, ten minutes ago," the Doctor said vaguely. For once he was having trouble keeping track of time.

"And you are…?"

"I'm the Doctor. I'm with Rose Tyler. Jackie's daughter."

The inspector nodded. "I see. And where is Miss Tyler?"

The Doctor turned; Rose was nowhere to be seen, but he could hear retching. He was in the bathroom in seconds, holding Rose's hair back from her face and rubbing her back.

One of the paramedics brought a glass of water. Rose sipped it, eyes closed, head resting on the Doctor's shoulder.

"This isn't supposed to happen," she whispered.

The rest of the day was taken up with officials, policemen, forms, and questions. The Doctor had never really realised how much bureaucracy was involved in dying.

Too much.

Neighbours arrived, when they realised what was happening. Mickey came, but Rose couldn't look at him. She had to call her aunt, who lived ten minutes away, and so her aunt arrived too, full of loud wails and recriminations for all and sundry.

Rose stayed in a corner, holding the Doctor's hand, while friends and relations crowded in, cleaning up what they could and making endless cups of tea. Tea, the cure-all.

Minutes stretched into hours. Nine o'clock came and went, and still the flat was crowded with people who didn't want to leave Rose alone.

Rose wanted to be alone. She shoved her way through the crowds, passed her mother's bedroom, door shut, and escaped into the night air. She clung onto the rail, leaning over the wall slightly, drawing great shuddering breaths.

The Doctor's hand came to rest on her shoulder. "Do you want to leave?" he asked her quietly. "We don't have to stay."

She turned and looked straight at him. "I want to go back."

He was startled. "What?"

"Take me back," she said again. "Take me back…a day, two days, however long it was. I want to go back. I can stop this."

The Doctor closed his eyes briefly. "Rose, no."

"What d'you mean, no?" she demanded, outraged.

"I mean, no. I can't do that."

Rose took a step towards him. "You mean, you won't," she corrected him. "I know you can do it."

"Rose, I can't interfere with time like that," he reminded her softly. "You've seen the consequences, what happens when we mess with the timeline."

"But this was only two days!" she snapped. "That won't change anything, it won't affect you – all it'd do is stop my mum from killing herself!"

The words hung in the air. Everyone had avoided saying it so directly, but it was obvious that Jackie had taken her own life.

Rose nodded finally. "Fine. Fine, then. If you won't do it, I will." She took off at a run, towards the stairs and then down, down, down to the concrete yard where the TARDIS sat, patiently awaiting the return of its Time Lord. The Doctor followed barely a step behind her, but he didn't try to stop her.

She pulled at the door of the blue box, too distraught to remember that it was locked and that her key was in the pocket of her jeans. She tugged at it, then slammed her fist against it. The Doctor watched her.

"Open up!" she cried, hailing blows on the time ship. "Let me in!" She punched so hard that her knuckles started bleeding. "You've got to – you've got to…"

She collapsed into a heap, and in a moment the Doctor was next to her, holding her, rocking her back and forth as a storm of tears engulfed her.

"Why?" she asked again and again. "Why? God, it's all my fault. I should never have left. I thought she'd be safe. Why?"

The Doctor didn't even try to answer her. Words, he knew, were useless in this moment. Words could not ease her pain, could not erase the memory of Jackie's body, a memory that would be burned into her eyes for years to come.

He should know.

At last, exhausted by her tears and heedless of the cold concrete beneath her, she fell asleep slumped against him. He stroked her hair gently, listening to the odd catch in her breathing as she slept.

He looked up as footsteps approached; Mickey, carrying a rucksack and several carrier bags, stopped a few metres away.

"I packed up some of her stuff," he told the alien in a subdued voice. "I'll…I'll help sort the rest out, put it in storage or whatever, so she can sort through it when she's ready."

The Doctor nodded. "You're a good friend to her, Mickey."

Mickey shook his head. "I should have looked after Jackie. I knew she was low." He looked at Rose, a strange look on his face. "Take her away, Doctor. She don't need to be here."

The Doctor held out a key, and Mickey put Rose's belongings just inside the TARDIS. He departed, and the Doctor carefully shook Rose awake.

Half asleep, she didn't seem to remember much of the day's happenings, and he guided her carefully into the ship and through the labyrinth of corridors to her bedroom. He tucked her in and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

Rose was strong, he knew. He hoped she was strong enough.

* * *

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